Gnik Nus
by Has a Rubber Soul
Summary: In 1964, The Beatles are hosting an array of lost people who have been spontaneously and unwillingly sucked through time. Sophie is one of the eight involuntary visitors, from 2012, who tries to form friendships with everyone else whilst still being in awe with meeting her favourite band. Apart from eight strangers being stuck in 1964 together, what else could go amiss?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys, this is my third FanFiction story (including my collab with That70sGirl99), and it's another Beatles one of course! Some of you may read my first story, **_**Sexy Sadie, What Have You Done?**_**, and if you don't, please do! I love that story and I am still continuing it, I just had this idea and wanted to start it. Okay? So, this is a completely different direction than SSWHYD, and I hope you like it!**

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**Chapter 1 **

"She was a Day Tripper, one way ticket yeah! It took me sooooo long to find out, and I found out!" I was prancing around the shopping centre, singing along to The Beatles as Day Tripper played throughout the centre. My favourite band. The greatest band ever. Let's face it, I am obsessed with them. Especially Georgie – he's so cute! Or… was… None of my friends understood. They thought that seventeen year olds should be listening to 'modern music' as they call it, or as I like to call it, crap. Nothing beats The Beatles. NOTHING.  
"Sophie!" my Mum was becoming embarrassed by my public antics.  
I quieted down, realising that my voice probably wasn't what the other shoppers would like to hear. I just wanted to show off how well I knew the song by singing aloud.  
"Right, I've got to go and return this dress," Mum said, "You coming in?"  
"I'll just wait here," I told her.  
She went into the clothing boutique and I stood outside, waiting. I liked to people-watch. I suddenly caught sight of an elderly man wearing jeans and a Beatles shirt, standing about fifteen metres away. He looked about sixty… and he was staring right at me. He smiled and waved. I looked behind me to see if there was someone in the shop window that he could be waving at but no one was there. I looked at him again and he seemed to chuckle. I had a feeling he knew me somehow, like he was my real grandfather, assuming my existing ones were fake. I didn't feel intimidated or targeted. I actually felt comfortable, so comfortable I waved back, a confused smile on my face. Mum came out of the store then.  
"Who are you waving at?" she asked.  
"I don't even know," was my response.

That night I was in my room in my pyjamas, dancing around to The Beatles, amongst other stuff. It wasn't _just_ The Beatles that I liked – I liked other stuff too, like Pink Floyd and The Bee Gees and heaps of good stuff, really. I realised it was pretty late. Dad called sternly through my bedroom door, "Go to sleep please."  
"I will!" I called back with more force than I intended. I decided to actually get into bed for once (I usually stay up really late fart-arsing around). I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, the sound of the best music in the world acting as my lullaby.

Suddenly, I felt like I was falling. I gripped onto the side of my bed for dear life as if to hold on. I didn't dare open my eyes – I was too scared! But a bright light pierced through my eyelids. Suddenly, the falling sensation stopped and I laid motionless, still with my eyes closed and gripping onto the bed tightly.  
"Oi, we got another one," I heard a familiar Liverpudlian accent announce.  
"What this time?" another familiar voice asked.  
"A fine young bird, she is. Medium length brown hair… sharp nose… and she's hosting Zit City!"  
"Oi, that ain't nice."  
"I would tell you her eye colour but if only she OPENED HER GODDAMN EYES!"  
The forcefulness of his usually serene voice scared me into opening my eyes.  
"See… chocolate brown."  
"Like yours, ey?"  
"Eh, they are a bit like mine."  
My biggest crush ever peered into my eyes as if I were some test subject. What I found when I opened my eyes nearly made me faint… George Harrison and John Lennon. How can that be? They're… they're…! I must've looked like I had just seen a ghost – when in reality I had just seen two – and I bolted upright, finding I was in an unfamiliar lounge room with two Beatles. I was lying on a lounge now instead of my familiar bed.  
"Wh-?" I couldn't formulate any words.  
"I'm assuming you know who we are," John calmly said.  
I just stared at them still.  
"Yer just like the rest," George laughed.  
"Let's take her into the room," John suggested.  
"Not yet! Let 'er come round first."

"What year is this?" I finally spoke, choking on my spit.  
"1964, love."  
1964. I was 48 years in the past.  
"How am I here?"  
"We'll explain later."  
George started helping me up. I complied but my legs felt like jelly. It was a good thing it was slightly chilly where I had just come from (even though it was summer) and I was in a jacket and three-quarter pants, because I would be extremely uncomfortable braless in a tank top and shorts right now. He and John led me into another lounge room where I was shocked to find about eight other people sitting around who looked like they were going to faint as well.  
"Now just sit down here and we'll be back soon," John ordered as he let go, forcing George to hold all of my weight. I uncoordinatedly slumped to the ground. John left the room and George winked at me as he followed John out. His wink made my heart flutter. I looked around the room. There was a middle-aged man in 'normal' clothes sitting in an armchair, looking distressed. There was a guy who I guessed was about eighteen sitting leaning against the wall with his legs outstretched. His attire suggested that he was probably from the 80s. There was another guy around his age standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room. He was wearing a military uniform. There was a blonde girl around my age curled up on the lounge, a distant look in her eyes. She looked pretty modern, like me. There was a lady next to her who looked thirty-odd. She was wearing 60s style clothes, so she couldn't have travelled far, time-wise. There was also an elderly lady sitting in another armchair, hunched over and cradling her handbag. Then there was the most puzzling one… a little boy who looked no older than seven. He was in the middle of the room sitting with his legs crossed.

I decided to be brave and speak up.  
"So," I said to the whole room, "Does anyone have any idea what's going on?"  
"We're in The Beatles' house," the 60s style woman spoke.  
"Yeah, but… why?"  
"We have no idea," replied the 80s guy.  
The little boy looked upset, so I crawled over to him.  
"Hi," I friendlily greeted and he slowly looked up at me, "What's your name?"  
"Jack," he softly replied.  
"Where are you from?"  
"Arkansas."  
"You're American? How old are you?"  
"Eight."  
He was small for his age.  
"What year is it where you are from?"  
"1993."  
"Oh, you're older than me!"  
I caught a glimpse of everyone else in the room looking at me in shock.  
"You're the only one he's talked to," the 60s lady told me.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah, he wouldn't talk to anyone else."

"So, who are you?" the 80s guy asked me.  
"I'm Sophie. 17. Australia. 2012. You guys?"  
"Ben. 19. Seattle. 1984," 80s guy replied.  
"Ethel, 68, Cardiff, 2000," the elderly lady croaked.  
"Adam, 22, Australia, '71," the military guy introduced. I got a pang of excitement hearing there was another Australian here. From his age, date and attire, I could only assume he was heading off to the Vietnam War.  
"Jenny, 30, Sussex, 1963," said 60s lady.  
"You haven't travelled far," I commented.  
"I know."  
"I-I'm Peter, 44. I'm from Auckland, 2022," the distressed middle-aged man mumbled anxiously.  
"Really?" I was fascinated that this guy was so close to home, time and location-wise, "Well according to the Mayans the world's apparently supposed to end in two days, but you've just proved that wrong."  
"I remember that shit. That means you've just come from December 19, 2012."  
"That would be correct."  
Everyone went silent. I had been introduced to everyone. All but one… the blonde girl around my age was still and wordless, curled up in a ball on a chair. I looked at her expectantly but Jenny the 60s lady just shook her head at me. Obviously they'd had the same response from her.

I sat down and let it all sink in. I was in 1964. In the house of a Beatle. I had just met John and George… not to mention, seven other people from different years. This was crazy. I can bet that the main thought going through everyone's head was '_what the hell?'. _ This was truly strange. How is it humanly possible to travel through time? _Especially _right onto The Beatles' lounge chair. This wasn't real, I kept telling myself. I was having another one of my vivid dreams. But in my dreams I didn't have emotions like I did now. Not only was I confused and shocked but I was scared. I was never going to see my family again… well, until I was an old lady anyway. At least I knew I wasn't alone. These people were lost too (well, maybe Jenny had it easy). I didn't know how to live in the 60s. I didn't know how to act, what to wear (not that I had any clothes) and I would likely be prone to mentioning things that haven't happened yet. All I know is that my life has changed immensely – I'm stuck in 1964 with uncertainty as to if I will ever return home.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys, I'd appreciate some reviews so I know what you think of the story!**

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**Chapter 2**

The eight of us were all obviously still stunned. For no apparent reason or cause, we had each time-travelled from different points in the twentieth and twenty-first century to this exact time, 1964, right in the middle of a _Beatle_'s house. No one said a word. We heard voices coming from outside the door.  
"I find that hard to believe," a deep voice said.  
"No, really, there are eight of them in there!" another voice, which sounded like John's, protested, "All from different times, it seems."  
"You're telling us that eight people just appeared out of nowhere and now they're all in there?" another, sassier, voice asked in disbelief.  
"Yes! I'm telling you, there are older ones and younger ones and they don't seem to have any relation to each other at all."  
"Let's see them then."  
"Be careful, they're fragile," the fourth voice warned.  
The sliding doors slid open to reveal all four Beatles, standing there in the flesh. I swear I nearly fainted.

Ringo and Paul looked flabbergasted. George and John were obviously the only ones who knew about this.  
"I can see you were telling the truth, Johnny," Paul mumbled, still looking at us in awe. It felt uncomfortable to have them staring at us intently as if they were examining animals in a zoo. None of us moved.  
"Where's Brian?" Ringo asked.  
"He's gone out to get some supplies," George replied, "We don't know how long they're gonna be here for."  
"Well," Paul sighed loudly, "Hello everyone. My name's Paul McCartney. These are my buddies Ringo Starr, John Lennon and George Harrison."  
"We know who you are," Adam, in the military uniform, said what we were all thinking.  
"You do?"  
"Yeah. You're The Beatles. Everyone knows who you are."  
"Oh, well, I'm not sure _everyone_ knows who we-."  
"Paul, maybe the years they are from we're really big," George suggested.  
"Ah, yes, so, uh, we're guessing you have already figured out that you are all from different years, so we don't really need to explain anything."  
"You have a hell of a lot to explain," middle-aged New Zealander Peter retorted.  
"Yes, well, we're not a hundred percent sure at the moment either, about everything, but now we'll need to make an inventory - a profile of each of you."

He went into another room and came back with a notebook and pencil.  
"Right, who was first to arrive?" he started.  
"Uh… it was that one," John scanned the room and pointed to Ben, the 80s guy. The four walked over to Ben.  
"Right, so, what's your name?" Paul asked.  
"Ben. I'm 19 and I'm from Seattle in 1984," he replied nonchalantly.  
"Right," Paul wrote down the information, "I guess you knew what information I was going to ask you for. Right, who was next?"  
"This lass over here," George indicated to Jenny.  
"Jenny. I'm 30 and I'm from 1963 Sussex," she told them from across the room before they could move towards her or ask anything.  
"Oh, only last year? That's good," Paul commented.  
"Next was that guy over there," John said, pointing to Adam.  
"No, it was him," George protested, pointing to Peter, the New Zealander.  
"Are you sure?"  
"It was me," Adam said, "I'm Adam, I'm 22 and I'm from 1971 Australia."  
"What's with the suit?" Ringo asked.  
"I was about to head off to the Vietnam War before I was sucked into this time vortex thing."  
"Vietnam has a war in 1971?" John asked incredulously.  
"Maybe you should stop there," Paul advised Adam.  
"Okay, then that guy was definitely next," George said, referring to Peter.  
"I'm from 2022 New Zealand. I'm Peter and I'm 44."  
"2022? Wow," Paul commented, "That's a long way in the future."  
"Yeah, and I'm the one here whose travelled the farthest. And if you don't mind, I'd like to go back. I'm a long way from home."  
"Next was the little boy," John said.  
"What's your name?" Paul crouched down next to him.  
"Jack. I'm eight."  
"Can you tell me what year you're from?"  
"1993. I'm from Arkansas."  
"It's okay Jack, everything's gonna be alright."  
"She was next," George pointed to the young blonde girl who hadn't said anything yet.

"What's your name?" Paul asked.  
She continued to cower in fear, not answering.  
"She hasn't spoken to us," Jenny said.  
"It's okay, sweetie, you'll be okay," Ringo comforted her, "Can you tell us about you?"  
"I-I'm Kylie," she eventually spoke.  
"Hey Kylie. Can you tell us which year you're from?"  
"I'm from 2009. Australia, 2009. I'm sixteen."  
An Australian around my age and time! Yay!  
"Thank you, Kylie."  
"She was next," George pointed to Ethel, the elderly lady.  
"I'm Ethel," she said in her Welsh accent, "I'm 68 and I'm from Cardiff in the year 2000."  
Paul wrote her details down and then they all turned to me.  
"This young lass here is our most recent acquisition," John told them. I felt uncomfortable having the four Beatles stare down at me.  
"I'm Sophie," I said, trying to inject as much confidence into my voice as possible, "I'm 17 and I'm from Australia in 2012."  
"So not too dissimilar to her then?" Paul pointed his pencil to Kylie.  
"Quite a few of those Australians here," Ringo commented, "Three of eight."  
"And don't forget that New Zealand guy," George commented, "Aren't they near each other?"  
"I think so," Paul mumbled, "Well, Brian's gone out to get you some supplies, whatever that means, so just sit tight for now."

"There is no way I'm just going to 'sit tight'," 80s guy Ben stood up, "Send us home!"  
"Yeah, about that…," John started.  
"What?"  
"You see… uh… you can't go home."  
"WHAT?" we all exclaimed in outrage.  
"You mean we're stuck in the sixties?" I asked in disbelief.  
"Unfortunately so. I know it's bad for all of us. We don't want to house you here and you want to be back in your own year. But we have to deal with it as there is nothing we can do."  
"Wait, you don't want to house us?" Ben asked slowly, getting angrier, "Where the fuck are we gonna go? It's 1964! I'm from 1984! It's twenty years in my past!"  
"It's okay," Jenny spoke up, "We'll find my 1964 self and she'll help us out - she would've already lived this and would know what was happening. This is only next year for me."  
"But what if there isn't a 1964 version of you?" I speculated, "What if your current 1963 version never makes it home and there never is a version of you from then on? That would make you right now your 1964 version."  
Everyone looked down in sadness and with the crushing revelation that we will most likely never leave 1964.

I was too far back in time - my parents weren't even born yet. I was an orphan who shouldn't exist. Of course, I shouldn't be so selfish - everyone else was in the same situation. They had all travelled far back in time like I had. All except for Jenny, who had it easy.  
"I'm fifteen," Adam said with sudden realisation, "In this year I was fifteen. I went to your concert with my dad."  
"I'm going to be born next year. My Mum's pregnant with me right now," Ben added.  
"My parents aren't even born yet. I'm not going to be born for thirty-one years."  
We all looked up at the four 1964 natives to provide an explanation.  
"Look, guys, whatever this is, it's not our fault it happened," Paul defended, "We didn't bring you here. All we know is that you landed here, in Brian's apartment, and now we have to deal with it."  
"This is Brian's apartment?" I asked.  
"Yeah, Brian-."  
"-Epstein. Your manager."  
"You knew that?"  
"I know everything about you up until 2012, where I'm from. I am your biggest fan. Mind you, I am one of the rare few my age in my era who likes you."  
"You're our biggest fan, are you, Sophie?" John asked, "Okay then, since you're from 2012, tell me exactly how my life is going to turn out."  
Ben, Kylie, Ethel and Peter, who are past 1980, all snapped their heads up.  
"I-I can't do that," I protested, "None of you can know your futures."  
"Why? Is it bad?" John taunted.  
"It's not the best life, no."  
"Tell us!"  
"Leave her alone, you big goon Lennon," Peter defended me, "We all, save for Jenny, know what happens post-1964, and none of us are going to tell you. It's for your own safety. Mind you, Adam here is only seven years away, so he won't know much, but we do. So just drop it, because we are not going to divulge any information that will be detrimental to your present self."

They didn't say anything until Ringo suddenly asked, "When's my birthday?"  
"July 7, 1940," I immediately replied.  
"Mine?" George asked.  
"February 25, 1943."  
"How do you know all this?"  
"I told you, you guys are my favourites."  
I looked down, embarrassedly, feeling awkward to have just admitted that to The Beatles.  
"So you really know everything about us?" Paul asked.  
"Yes," I affirmed.  
"So you know what songs we're about to write?"  
"What's the date?"  
"April seventeenth."  
"How was America?" I asked.  
"Great," Paul replied.  
"I know that right now you're in the middle of filming A Hard Day's Night, your first film."  
"First?" George chimed.  
"Oops."  
"I think we have it settled that she knows everything about us, our complete history from here till her time, when we're in our seventies," Paul said, "Ain't that right?"  
I nodded.

"Oh, boys, you're here," a posh voice sounded from the hall.  
Everyone turned to see Brian Epstein standing in the doorway, Mal Evans (their 'roadie') behind him. Both of them were carrying an array of bags. I assumed these were the 'supplies' George mentioned.  
"Oh," Brian seemed surprised, "There's more. When I left there were only five."  
"Now there's eight of 'em," John told him.  
"Oh, well this is a surprise. I've bought some supplies that you may need. It seems as if you'll be staying for a while, and here in my apartment. I don't mind, of course, I'm willing to help out the needy, and those lost in time, I just didn't have enough of everything here to accommodate you all. Mal, bring the bags in here."  
"You're Mal Evans," I stated matter-of-factly. The tall, bulky man looked at me with an expression of wonderment and incredulity.  
"Yeah, I know," he awkwardly responded, "How do you know me?"  
"This girl here is from 2012 and she seems to know every little thing about us," Paul explained.  
"Every little thing, ha," I snorted. They all looked at me strangely.  
"I guess you haven't written that one yet," I said abashedly.

Mal and Brian placed the bags of shopping on the coffee table.  
"The store assistant sure thought me odd for purchasing all of this," Brian commented as he pulled out bars of soap, shampoo, conditioner, feminine hygiene products, toothbrushes and cans of food. It seemed Brian thought we were settling in for a long stay – god, I hoped not.  
"Well, it seems I wasn't expecting three more of you," Brian said, "I only bought five toothbrushes."  
"I'll go out and get some more of everything," Mal offered.  
"Thank you, Malcolm," Brian thanked as Mal left the room.  
"Where are we all going to sleep?" Adam asked.  
"Well, I have plenty of blankets here, some of you can stay in here," Brian answered, and then turned his head towards John, George, Paul and Ringo, "Boys?"  
"Oh, no, they're not staying in my house," John protested, "Not with Julian around."  
"My flat is barely big enough for me," George said.  
"They landed in _your_ apartment, Brian," added Paul, "They're your responsibility."  
"Hey, hey, it's no one's fault that we landed here, precisely in Brian's apartment," I contested, "It could've been any of yours' homes. No one needs to take 'responsibility' for us, we just need to be looked after. We're in a foreign time and country. We don't know how to live in the sixties and there's no way we can go out into the streets unknowing of anything about living in this era. So for now, we all need to sit tight and figure out how we're going to handle this."  
No one said anything, they just contemplated my words. I caught Paul smiling slightly at me.  
"No, it's fine, never mind, you'll all stay here," Brian said, "It's too dangerous to have you at the boys' houses anyway."

We all settled in, claiming sections of the room as our own. Brian had a spare room and, of course, Ethel got the bed, being elderly and more fragile than the rest of us. We crafted makeshift beds out of blankets and cushions – it wasn't that comfortable, especially with my bad back, but it had to do. Little Jack got to sleep on the lounge. We all tried to spread out as much as possible – we didn't know each other very well yet. I was closest to Adam, in a little corner of the lounge room. Night soon fell upon us and the fab four left to go to their own homes. Brian made a large pot of tomato soup to feed us all. We all drank up eagerly, quite hungry from the long journey (literally). Time travel must take the food out of you. After dinner, we all climbed into our little 'beds'.  
"Well, good night all," Brian said.  
"Night," only a few of us mumbled. Others were still coming to terms with the situation and were quite grumpy and upset.

At first it was silent in the lounge room. No one said anything. All you could hear was breathing and the occasional person rolling over.  
"Isn't this weird?" a voice rang through the silence. I guessed it was Ben. Him just mentioning the situation made it even more weird. I felt like it was too awkward to be talking to each other casually, as if you were at a sleepover with your best friends. This was too odd.  
"I suppose so," Peter replied, a grumpy underlying tone evident.  
I tried rolling over, but I found something digging into my thigh – my phone! For some reason, before I was about to go to sleep back home, I put my phone in my pocket. Even though it was virtually my life support, I knew it was extremely risky to have this kind of technology around in 1964. Mobile phones aren't even going to be invented for ten or twenty years. Lying on my back, I pressed the home button on my iPhone, illuminating the room.  
"Woah, what is that?" a hubbub ensued around the room as everyone was startled by the sudden light coming from my hands. Jenny, Ben and Adam wouldn't know what a mobile phone is. Well, Ben might, but not a smart phone like this. Where the current time would be on the lock screen just had '0:00'. The icons at the top of the screen, save for the battery symbol, were all either missing or different. There was no such thing as a network in this year, therefore there would be no time, carrier, Wi-Fi or 3G. My phone was useless apart from game and music apps.

"Does someone have a phone?" Peter asked.  
"Yeah, that's me, sorry," I replied.  
"Sophie?" he asked for confirmation.  
"Yeah."  
"What the hell is it?" Adam asked from near me.  
"It's called a mobile phone, or cellular phone, and it's basically a little handheld telephone. They've been around since the seventies and eighties, but mine's 2012 technology. Practically everyone has one."  
"That's like so sci-fi," chuffed Ben.  
"Not really. It's just the norm."  
"And, what, I bet you have flying cars in 2012 too."  
"No, what the hell? They've only really just introduced battery-powered cars. Not everything in Back to The Future has come true."  
"What's Back to The Future?"  
"Crap, only 1984. Oh, well, next year, in your time, an absolutely amazing movie will come out and- oh, actually he goes to 2015 in the _second_ one."  
"Sophie, you really need to learn to control yourself," Peter laughed.  
"I know," I sighed, "I keep revealing too much. I keep forgetting what has and hasn't happened yet for people and what years they're from. I'm sorry, I'll try shutting up. Peter, you've lived past 2012, so you have to warn me if I'm revealing too much."  
"Okay," he laughed.  
"Guys, remember I haven't even lived up until now," Jenny reminded us, being the only one who travelled forward in time, not back like the rest of us.  
"Oh, you want to know what happens between 1963 and 1964?" Adam jokingly taunted, "Oh, well there was-."  
"Stop!" Jenny protested, "I don't want to know!"  
After a brief silence we all broke out in laughter.

Even though it has been less than a day, I already feel comfortable with these people. I just didn't want to become too comfortable, as I wasn't planning on a long stay.


End file.
